


Cabin Fever

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Mentor/Protégé, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s01e09 The Series Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: After hitting a wall trying to free Tommy and Billy herself, Wanda returns to the only other witch she knows - and she knows exactly where to find her.
Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 64
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to try my hand a multi-chapter fic for these two. Multi-chapter pics are not really my strong suit, so I can't promise anything great with this but I wanted to try anyway.

If there’s one thing Wanda didn’t want to do, it was admitting defeat. But after months of toiling over tomes and grimoires, voraciously consuming any bit of magical how-to that she could, she  _ still _ had no way of finding her sons. And despite the effort of trying to go it alone, spending her every moment neck-deep in trying to find a solution, she had nothing. Even with all of her power, there was only so much she could do without the knowledge to wield it.

In her time locked in a cell under the watchful eye of Baron Strucker, she had learned a basic manipulation of her powers through baptism by fire. Growth was expected and regression was punished. She had no choice but to learn. It was less of an actual understanding of her abilities than it was a fight-or-flight reaction. They enabled her to survive, but so did her heart, and she’d have an easier time understanding that than she did the power that flowed through her. While Strucker had forced her to adapt, his tutelage was meaningless when he understood just as little as she did.

Then came her time alongside the Avengers, working beside Cap and Widow, training with other recruits had given her discipline - but no more awareness than she previously had. Her powers were a tool, just as much as Sam’s wings or Rhodey’s suit, but those were machines, things that could be taken apart to glean understanding; unfortunately her power could not.

When Wanda had been sure there was no hope of understanding what she was, who she was, she was given guidance, given answers. She was a witch. The Scarlet Witch. And for the first time in a very long time, she could glimpse a peek at the mangled tapestry that was her ability, spied a piece of the image she had previously been too blind to see. This was bestowed upon her, not from a Hydra scientist, or a super soldier, but another witch - from someone like her.

And of course Wanda had heard of sorcerers and the like that lived in their little secluded sanctum in New York, but that hardly seemed like an option for her after what she’d done recently in New Jersey. For as much as they outwardly appeared to have the answers she sought, Wanda couldn’t definitely say she  _ knew _ them, or their sorcerer supreme. But she did know  _ her _ , her last resort, her silver bullet. Better the devil you know than the one you don’t, right?

So, under the cover of night, shrouded in clothes to hide her appearance, she dropped down into the small town on a mission. A bloom of red magic scuffing beneath her feet, softening the blow as she landed. Her shoes glided over the dewy grass as she crept towards the blue front door of her former neighbor’s house.

The door swung open with an inclination of her magic, as easily as if she had a key, as though she belonged. Wanda stepped inside quietly, hearing the sound of commotion coming from the kitchen. It was mostly the clang of pots and pans and a flamboyant, familiar humming. It was eerie being back in that house, Wanda concluded, as she wandered through the living area, her last memory of the place wasn’t so fond.

The television was on, the screen casted a disturbing pale glow throughout the room, the volume wasn’t particularly loud so the voices escaping the speakers just sounded like whispers. It sent an uncomfortable chill up her spine.

Wanda ignored the anxious feeling that began to bloom in her belly, rather just opting to follow the sounds coming from the kitchen.

Her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as she entered the kitchen, eyes squinted briefly at the jarring light in the room in contrast to the utter darkness that consumed the rest of the house. She blinked to adjust to the brightness, green eyes eventually landing on the figure flitting back and forth between across the room.

Agnes.

Then her humming stopped, pink lips quirking into a smile while the brunette continued measuring out some ingredients across the countertop. There was something unnerving about the way she poured out some flour into a bowl, something mechanical in the way she moved, something unnatural. Even the playful bounce in the other woman’s step rang false.

“Wanda, darling, you  _ can  _ come in, you know.” Agnes teased, voice all hollow and nasally like it had been when she was still playing the part that she had chosen. Now she was playing the part Wanda had forced upon her. Yet, Wanda persisted, stepping farther into the kitchen.

Agnes resumed her humming, sloppily cracking a few eggs into her mess of flour, whisking it together with a fork, oblivious to the splinters of eggshell she had gotten in the bowl.

“I knew you couldn’t keep away,” Agnes said playfully, even though the words felt scripted, the young witch couldn’t deny the pang of shame it sent through her. Agnes’ flouncy dark curls bounced as she spun to finally face Wanda, arm still working as she whisked her ingredients together. The smile she wore was a veneer, haunting and ceramic, like it had been molded from clay under Wanda’s very own fingers. 

After everything that had happened in Westview, the sight turned Wanda’s stomach, even when worn by a woman that she told herself she hated. With the sharp crook of her fingers, magic dancing over the pale digits, Agnes stopped - paused like a puppet that had been left to hang.

Wanda inched closer, hands shaking and stomach tense as she anticipated some retaliation that never came. Agnes remained still, bowl tucked into the crook of her elbow and sinew flexing in her arm where she had been halted mid-mix. Wanda swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat, eyes locked on the smiling visage of the woman before her.

Agnes was tolerable, she was fun and harmless, flirty and an incorrigible gossip...but Agnes wasn’t the woman she needed.

Lifting her fingers brimming with magic to Agnes’ temple, Wanda carefully brushed back some of the hair that got in her way. Sucking in one last breath, she sent a potent shock magic through the other woman, watching as it coursed through her, skin and eyes briefly tainted with the hellish hue. Wanda shivered at the gentle way Agnes’ breathing washed over her in their close proximity. Then she blinked, eyes refocusing like she could truly see for the first time.

Wanda gasped at the sudden clatter of the bowl to the ground, poorly mixed flour and eggs spilling over the glossy floor. The dark haired woman lurched, nearly losing her balance before catching herself on the countertop.

When Wanda met those familiar blue eyes once more, a tingle rippled through her at the pointed look behind them.  _ That _ wasn’t Agnes. Wanda was almost instantly filled with bitterness, and anger even.

Then those pretty dark lashes fluttered, nostrils flaring subtly as a single tear descended down the older woman’s cheek…

And she sucked in a breath like she was breathing for the first time in centuries...like she had risen from the dead.

She hadn’t expected that, but then again, Agatha had always been a convincing liar.

“What year is it?” The elder witch asked somberly after a moment, no snark or quip hanging on her tongue. Wanda wasn’t a fan of the feeling that wriggled it’s way into her chest, hot where it prodded insistently at her lungs - regret.

“I-” Wanda began, not sure how to grapple with her own discomfort, holding a whole town hostage as a result of her grief had been one thing, but this? Making one woman nothing but a one-dimensional shell of herself, feeding her scripted lines and mundane activities to keep her occupied until she was deemed useful again…

The thought made the regret smoldering in Wanda’s chest burn hotter.

“It’s been 3 months.” Wanda said stiffly, watching the way Agatha narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously. To be fair Wanda understood the skepticism, for all the other witch knew, Wanda had kept her playing make-believe for decades, locked inside her own mind - disconnected from the reality she had been forced to endure.

An uncertain silence grew between them, arduous and bothersome, compressing down on Wanda’s chest like someone had dropped a weight on her sternum. Agatha’s eyes still glaring daggers at her. Then the elder witch blew out a scoff between her teeth, rolling her eyes as she folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t look particularly intimidating, a barren body devoid of magic, in her cute little button down with a cashmere sweater tied around the shoulders.

“Clearly you’re not here for the company,” Agatha drawled cuttingly, blunt nails polished in an ill-fitting summery shade drummed against her bicep.

“So, what do you need help with?” The elder witch asked, proudly wearing a vindictive smile that made the petty rage in Wanda want to lock her up all over again.

Yet Wanda said nothing, petulantly chewing the inside of her cheek as Agatha stepped around the growing puddle of egg and flour on the floor.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, sweetheart,” The brunette continued, “You’re not here to gloat, if you were you woulda done that already, which brings me back to square one - what do you need help with, Wanda?”

Wanda framed her hands over her hips, chin jutting out stubbornly as she’s brought face to face with the one thing she wishes she wasn’t - her inexperience. Time to admit defeat.

“I need to understand more about what I can do,” She said, pausing to exhale her nervous breath, “And I can’t do that without  _ help _ .” The young witch spat out the final word like it was burning a hole through her tongue. Still Agatha bore a wide grin.

“Well, I am more than happy to help.” The brunette said, the bright airy tone of her voice reminding Wanda of her role as Agnes. Now it was Wanda who couldn’t quite fight her skepticism.

“Why?” Wanda asked, green eyes narrowed at the older woman, unconvinced by her noncommittal shrug.

“What can I say, I’ve got some time to kill.” Agatha said, inching closer in her little canvas shoes that screamed suburbia. When the witch came closer too quickly for the redhead’s liking, a ripple of red snapped instinctively to Wanda’s fingers.

The glowing red of her palm seemed to fill the other witch with equal parts fear and loathing, as Wanda waved around magic that was rightfully Agatha’s.

“Consider this probation, if you slip up, you’ll end up right back  _ here _ .” Wanda said firmly, watching as Agatha’s smug smile wilted. Somehow Wanda had a feeling the older witch wouldn’t be eager to ruin her one chance at freedom, well a somewhat freer existence than the one she had been living in Westview.

“Fine, fine,” Agatha purred, hands held up placatingly, it wasn’t like she could hurl any spells in Wanda’s direction in her current state, “What you say goes, boss.” The brunette tacked on with a wink that made Wanda shudder.

Wanda watched in genuine surprise as the elder witch exited the kitchen with a slinky swing in her hips that her fictional counterpart Agnes could only dream of possessing. Wanda shook her head, now wasn’t the time to get distracted. So she followed after the older woman, shoes squeaking against the floor as she broke into a brief jog to meet Agatha where she had suddenly stood on her lawn. 

The brunette stood mutely on the grass, shoes abandoned so she could wiggle her toes in the plush green blades. Her head turned towards the sky with a reverence Wanda had never seen on her face, it was a jarringly humble look as she gazed up at the stars. It then occurred to the young witch that this was a view she had denied the brunette beside her, an ancient powerful witch - and she was staring at the stars with glassy eyes and her toes in the grass…

Seizing the older woman by the arm, her gloved hand curled around Agatha’s bicep, Wanda stiffened at the subtle sound of the brunette’s quiet sniffle. Her green eyes met Agatha’s blue.

“Let’s get the hell outta here, Red.”

Wanda nodded, a swirl of scarlet magic plumed beneath her feet as her disguise melted away to reveal her eye-catching suit. Her grip tightening on the other woman as she prepared to take off and leave Westview behind them, there was nothing she wanted more.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, here is chapter 2. I've been really excited to share it with you after all of the positive feedback to the first chapter.
> 
> Please don't mind any spelling errors.
> 
> Enjoy!

Agatha wasn’t sure what she had been expecting when Wanda dragged her out of Westview, well, if she was being honest it felt more like a prison break than coercion at that point.

When they dropped down, her bare feeting meeting icy soil, Agatha let out a hiss. The older witch rubbed her palms briskly over her arms, trying to stave off the stubborn chill. This certainly wasn’t  _ it.  _

“You couldn’t have picked some place warmer to set up shop?” Agatha asked with a frown as she eyed the little cabin Wanda had taken them too. It was a humble space with a tight cluster of pine trees surrounding it, and a sizable stack of lumber off to the side. Firewood if Agatha had to guess, the place didn’t look like it had heated floors or a thermostat.

“This is...homey.” The brunette said dryly, eyes lingering on the runes cast into the wood. It wasn’t like she could use her magic anyway, not with little red riding hood keeping it all for herself. Still, it was sort of touching that Wanda had taken the only lesson Agatha had been able to teach her so clearly to heart.

Wanda simply scoffed as she ascended the stairs to the little rustic cabin, her Scarlet Witch attire melting away to leave her garbed in simple, but warm clothing, which was a far cry from Agatha’s current state of dress.

“Where are we, by the way?” Agatha asked, gazing around the environment, from the tall span of pine trees that stretched on a ways behind the cabin to the pale, cloudless sky above them. It was picturesque, but nondescript.

“Somewhere private.” Wanda called back over her shoulder.

The elder witch quickly followed the redhead, her feet throbbing from the cold by the time she made it to the rough hewn front door.

Agatha jumped in surprise as Wanda closed the door to the cabin behind them with a snap of her fingers and a shimmer of her scarlet magic. What Agatha wouldn’t give for just a taste of her power. She remembered the unfathomable sweetness of it, the way it pulsed through her veins, hot and potent…

“Cute.” Agatha hummed, biting down on her lower lip to keep her teeth from chattering. Looking around the space, from the little wood burning stove to the circular table draped with a checkered tablecloth to the lonely yellowing candle that stood in it’s brass holder at the center. It was simple, but charming, and just marginally warmer than it was outside. Agatha was liking the place more and more.

Wanda turned to face her, a determined gleam in the green of her eyes, mouth opened as though she were prepared to give orders no doubt, though she stopped short when she got a good look at the older witch. Her cheeks instantly colored with a warmth that the older woman envied as Wanda averted her gaze shyly.

“You’re cold.” Wanda said stiffly, looking astonishingly her actual age in that moment, young and timid.

Agatha glanced down at herself and snorted, she was  _ cold _ , her skin was tight and tingly with gooseflesh, her nipples felt harder than diamond where they jutted visibly beneath her shirt. A flicker of blessed warmth unfurled in her belly at the way Wanda seemed stunned by the revelation, cheeks all hot and unable to even look in Agatha’s direction.

“What gave it away?” Agatha said with a chuckle, still rubbing her arms fiendishly to inspire some friction, some much needed heat.

Wanda sucked the plump swell of her bottom lip between her teeth as she turned her gaze back to Agatha, putting more effort into keeping her pretty green eyes fixed on the older witch’s face than on the distracting display on her chest.

“You know, some magic would be nice right about now.” Agatha purred ruefully, trying not to shiver for reasons aside from the bone-biting chill, when pinned beneath Wanda’s steely stare. Wanda’s eyes flickered with anger and a flare of magic, _ my magic _ , Agatha thought sourly.

“Probation, remember?” Wanda reminded icily, “Do you really think I would be stupid enough to trust you?” The young witch asked venomously, molten red eyes boring into Agatha.

The brunette snorted, “You’re trusting me now, aren’t you, toots?” The older woman goaded, feeling the crackle of energy in the air. Even devoid of magic as she was, she was still attuned to it, written in a frequency she couldn’t unlearn. Agatha let out a long sigh, feeling the tingle of her magic, writhing and powerful where it frothed at Wanda’s fingertips, practically leaping from beneath that lily white skin to seep back into Agatha’s pores. The entirety of her coven locked away, a prisoner to Wanda, just like Agatha herself had been...like she still was.

“I’m using you,” Wanda corrected, cute button nose wrinkled in distaste, though her cheeks still burned with that tempting pink blush. Agatha knew what Wanda meant, knew she was just a tool for the younger witch, yet still it was hard to banish the swirl of want that spiralled through her at the choice of words. Now was certainly not the time to get distracted, but Wanda made it  _ very _ difficult.

“Uh huh,” Agatha drawled, “Gonna be pretty hard to use if I freeze.” She said, a horribly knowing lilt of her lips as she watched the anger in Wanda’s gaze fade to bitter resignation. Wanda needed Agatha, it was as simple as that, an irrefutable truth of her situation. So, Agatha was going to take as much as she could get while the getting was good. There was no telling how soon Wanda might be rid of her, hurling her back to Westview at a moment’s notice.

The redhead let out a sigh, snapping her fingers to conjure forth a bundle of clothes that looked decidedly warmer than Agatha’s little button down shirt and slacks.

“Here.” She said, handing off the clothes, thrusting the bundle forward so Agatha could take it.

“These are warmer.” Wanda said as Agatha accepted the clothes, clutching the fabric to her chest.

The elder witch swallowed the snide comment that instinctually sprang to her tongue, prepared to be spit like daggers from her cruel mouth. Yet, she withheld the urge, holding onto the clothes she’d been given, feeling the subtle heat of magic that was embedded in every fiber.

“Thank you.” Agatha said softly, the words felt foreign on her tongue, but she said them nonetheless. She couldn’t remember the last time she had relied on anyone other than herself for anything. It was humbling. It was humiliating.

She could see the shock written on Wanda’s face, as evidently as the runes that had been carved into her little cabin. Those green eyes were wide and her sweet mouth parted gently as she stared at Agatha, dumbfounded. For a fleeting moment her eyes glimmered with something other than magic, lips threatening to curve into a smile. Wanda was pleased, the elder witch determined, pleased to have tamed such a willful creature.

“You know most polite people would say you’re welcome.” Agatha tacked on with a small shrug, watching as Wanda’s stunned expression turned to something more aptly disapproving, though even then there was a spark of something in the way those green eyes stared at the older witch. Agatha tried her best not to squirm at the way her nipples ached from the stiff points they had pebbled into.

“The bathroom is that way.” Wanda said with a jerk of her thumb, cute mouth pursed into a firm line that made her dimples unavoidable. Even Agatha could admit she was pretty cute. So with a mock salute and her new change of clothes, Agatha marched off into the direction of the bathroom as Wanda had indicated.

Closing the door to the small bathroom, the elder witch sank down on the closed toilet seat with a sigh. It wasn’t the smoothest introduction to her new living situation, chained to Wanda’s every whim, but Agatha knew there were worse ways to spend her days than being roommates with  _ the  _ Scarlet Witch. After redressing in the thermal grey shirt and matching pants, bland and lifeless like her current existence as the little redhead’s prisoner. The brunette lifted her head stubbornly shuffling out over the hardwood in the warm material of the thick woolen socks Wanda had conjured her. She was Agatha  _ fucking  _ Harkness, she had survived worse than this.

Agatha found the younger witch sitting at the little round table, her hands curled around a mug of tea, translucent curls of steam tickling beneath the point of Wanda’s chin. Her green eyes rising up as Agatha reappeared, blue eyes catching the sight of a matching cup of tea placed across the table, sitting sweetly on the checkered tablecloth. Her lips crooked into a smile.

“I made tea.” Wanda said quietly, lips pursed as she blew a breath over the steaming liquid.

“You’d make one helluva housewife, Red.” Agatha purred playfully as she joined Wanda at the table, sinking into the wooden chair with a sigh. Fuck, she’d never felt older than she did in that moment. Cold hands clutching at her proffered mug of tea, soaking up the warmth it radiated.

Her grip slackened on the mug in surprise at the clumsy dig of Wanda’s magic into her mind, the sting of hot tea spilling over her knuckles hardly fazed her in comparison. Agatha slumped against the table, mouth set tightly as she powerlessly endured the searing plunge of another witch playing with her mind as though it were cotton candy, tearing pink chunk from chunk between her ears. Agatha stared at the way her tea wept into the tablecloth, blue eyes slowly lifting to her Wanda’s.

“If you’re looking for something,” The older witch hissed, a breath of relief spilling from her lips at the way Wanda’s magic retreated from her mind in shock, “I might be able to help you find it.” She suggested with an attempt at the smile, meeting Wanda’s stunned expression, cheeks hot with embarrassment at having been caught.

“How did you-” The redhead began.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Agatha hummed with a chuckle, an uncomfortable pressure welling behind her eyes in the space Wanda’s magic had occupied, like holes gouged in the dirt, “And, I still know what magic feels like.” She explained, studying Wanda’s small frown. A cute crease marring the skin between her eyebrows as Agatha sipped from her mug of tea.

“Here’s the thing, Red,” The brunette began, placing her tea down long enough to assess the damage to her burned knuckles, “I know I agreed to help, but I’m still gonna need boundaries, hun. Can’t just go poking around in there...well, not without asking.” Agatha added with a wink, lifting her burned fingers to soothe the injury with her tongue. Her eyes lingering on the way Wanda ducked her head, cheeks darkened with a ruddy blush as the older woman continued to suck on her fingers. Well, at least she knew there were still some cards she could play with the younger woman.

“I-I’m sorry,” Wanda said after a moment, pausing to chew pensively on her lower lip, “I just - I want to learn.” She admitted.

Agatha smirked, knuckles wet with her own spit where she reached across the table, spine tingling at the velvety caress of Wanda’s innate magic that surrounded the young woman like a blanket. Her hand landing atop Wanda’s, feeling a mind-numbing electric pulse that leapt readily from the younger woman. The contact was as jarring as it had always been. By the startled gasp that left Wanda’s lip, Agatha knew the young witch felt it too, that  _ connection _ that rippled through them.

“That’s what I’m here for, toots.” Agatha soothed, flinching at the way Wanda’s agile fingers maneuvered out to dance across Agatha’s burned skin. A shiver tingled from the hand that Wanda’s clever digits touched to reside down hotly in her gut, a seed that couldn’t be dug up. Red glittering at the ends of those pale fingers, a heat danced along the injured skin like a stroke of crimson lightning, though Agatha felt no pain, just the dutiful kiss of magic, just  _ healing _ .

The elder witch marveled at the porcelain flesh, untainted by the puffy red skin as a result of the scalding splash of her tea. Wanda had healed her.

“I didn’t teach you that.” Agatha hummed, eyes crinkling with pride as she gazed back at Wanda. A dimple darkening the younger woman’s cheek at the way she tried not to smile.

“No, you didn’t,” Wanda said with a smug smile, “But I’m a fast learner.”

Agatha grinned sharply in return, feeling the pull of magic still drawing on her, like a tether tying her to the woman across the table.

“Well, we’ll see about that won’t we?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep these chapters relatively short in an attempt to not burn myself out, so hopefully that's not an issue.
> 
> Feel free to comment your thoughts on this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I am not ignoring the other stuff I have on my plate, *cough* *cough* the sequel to Cherry Red, amongst other works in progress, but I wanted to write something not quite as dense so here it is - the first chapter.
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed this fic please don't hesitate to leave a comment and tell me about it, I love to hear what my readers have to say.


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